


Until We're Rocking 'Round The Christmas Tree

by Yendroid



Series: two more reasons why i love you so [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: A hint of smut, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, and all the domestic couple feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9241553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yendroid/pseuds/Yendroid
Summary: “Baby,” he hears the familiar sound of Harry's deep and slightly hoarse morning voice, making a warm shiver float up Zayn's spine. The noise makes him sink even further into the sheets than he already is, the impossibly low timbre filling him with content, and he rubs the side of his face against his pillow like a cat. Harry chuckles again, and Zayn feels his soft lips against his bared cheek, Harry's touch lingering with every kiss. “It's time to get up,” Harry whispers gently into Zayn's warm skin, more than aware of how sensitive to noise his boyfriend is at this time of day. Zayn whines again, but, slowly but surely, he opens his eyes.“Hello, gorgeous.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> A year ago (a year and a day because I'm actual trash, it's still the seventh in some places, let me live) I posted my first fic in this place, and for some reason I might have promised some people a little anniversary addition. This was written in way too much of a rush to probably be considered acceptable, and it's a bit shit, but no one's complained so far so it will do.
> 
> Here is what was supposed to be a lovely piece of Christmas Family Fun (in January, since we're keeping to traditions), but turned out to be a fluffy, slightly nasty mess, because literally all these hoes want to do is get it on and be the gross boyfriends that they are. Enjoy!

Zayn was never a morning person. Even as a pre-teen, there was nothing he hated more than having to get up at the crack of dawn to go to school at the most ungodly hour of 6 am. As expected, once he reached his teenage years, it almost got worse, every hour before noon at best being spent walking around in a zombie-like state. As a fully grown adult in his twenties, he's gotten slightly better. Or maybe he's just learned to deal with it, with having to get up and live, do things, adult things, and not lie around in his bed all day, which sounds like heaven on most days. Still, it's a pain, and one he will likely never be rid of.

His parents are more than used to it and always let him sleep in whenever he comes to visit, moving about downstairs as he snoozes away in the comfort of the guestroom above the kitchen, and letting the familiar noises of his family going about their early day keep him safe in a pleasant daze. He's a devil in the mornings, something the rest of the family learnt long ago. A very grumpy and disheveled, squinty devil. Not very talkative, but with eyes that say enough about his feelings towards whoever has had the misfortune of waking him from his slumber.

To this day, there is only one person who has ever managed to put a smile on Zayn's face before he has even opened his eyes. Only one person who is greeted by a warmth in Zayn's gaze, rather than the eyes of an up and coming serial killer. Only one person that Zayn would pull closer, and let into his personal space when he is at his most vulnerable.

Zayn hears the alarm go off in the distance, his mind still in a fuzzy dreamlike state. Not until he feels Harry's lips pressing against the dip of his collarbone in a chaste kiss does he let himself be pulled further and further away from his cloud of unconsciousness, instinctively letting his heavy arm fall over whatever of Harry he can grab. He gets a full head of hair in his face in return, and Zayn just pulls the warm body in his arms even closer, burying his nose in Harry's mess of curls and making a rumbling sound in the back of his throat.

He feels Harry chuckle against him more than he hears it, and lifts his hand to stroke through his hair lazily, before Harry moves away. Zayn whines pitifully, and this time, Harry's laugh is perfectly audible.

“Baby,” he hears the familiar sound of Harry's deep and slightly hoarse morning voice, making a warm shiver float up Zayn's spine. The noise makes him sink even further into the sheets than he already is, the impossibly low timbre filling him with content, and he rubs the side of his face against his pillow like a cat. Harry chuckles again, and Zayn feels his soft lips against his bared cheek, Harry's touch lingering with every kiss. “It's time to get up,” Harry whispers gently into Zayn's warm skin, more than aware of how sensitive to noise his boyfriend is at this time of day. Zayn whines again, but, slowly but surely, he opens his eyes.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

Harry's eyes are half-lidded and he has a mark on his cheek from where he must have slept weirdly on his pillow during the night. His hair is an absolute mess on his head, the shorter curls by his ears swept back from his face and sticking out in all directions, his long fringe waiting to fall down over his eyes at any second because of the way he is pulled up on an elbow, leaning over Zayn. His smile is crooked and his lips are slightly chapped, and he is the most beautiful thing Zayn has ever seen.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” Harry sing-songs in a gentle murmur as Zayn stretches his lips into a smile, not able to do anything else when faced with the sight of Harry in the morning, in the day, in the night, and whenever. Zayn whines again, a more pleased sound this time, but still with a hint of defiance since he's still just barely awake. He lifts up his hands to sloppily rub his palms against his eyes, sighing deeply and letting out a big yawn, feeling Harry's hand move to rub at his naked side, and Zayn can't help but purr for a moment, hearing Harry's quiet huff of laughter.

“What time is it?” Zayn mumbles, letting his hands rise up above his head and stretching his body deliciously, sighing deeply as he relaxes once more. His eyes have fallen closed again and he lets a hand fall to Harry's hair as he feels his lips press against his sternum.

“Eight sharp,” Harry says against his skin and zayn grunts grumpily, sneaking his arms under Harry's and pulling him up and over himself, swiftly and strongly enough in his dazed state to surprise Harry who moves easily in Zayn's grip, his legs falling on either side of his. It only takes a second for him to wrap his arms as tightly around Zayn as Zayn's are around his though, and Zayn sighs happily, his nose burrowed in Harry's warm neck.

“You want pancakes or waffles?” Harry's soft voice sounds in Zayn's ear, and he feels him press a kiss to his naked shoulder. Zayn squeezes him a bit closer still, smiling at Harry's half-hearted and joking grunt of discomfort.

“'ncakes,” Zayn muffles a reply. “And hot chocolate,” he adds, moving his face away to let his voice sound clearer than it has since he woke up, the sudden craving of some hot cocoa waking him up fifty percent at least.

“Excellent choice,” Harry grumbles, his voice just a bit strained as he gives a solid attempt to lift himself up and detangle himself from his boyfriend's snakelike grip on his torso. “I can't make it from here, babe,” Harry says, a laugh in his voice as they come face to face, his tone one of someone trying to explain something new to a stubborn little child, and Zayn can't even try to feel like he's not fitting the bill perfectly.

“Babe,” Harry breathes out, still with a laugh stuck in his throat as he puts his palms flat on the mattress to pull himself up. “Let me go,” he whines with a smile on his face and Zayn pouts even more, but releases him from his stronghold, making Harry fly back a bit further than intended from the sudden freedom, and Zayn snickers as he stays in his horisontal position. Harry grunts as he gets all his limbs out the bed and rises up, a hand coming up to brush his hair out of his face.

“Your turn,” he says, walking to the foot of the bed, and before Zayn can try to resist, Harry has his hands around his ankles, swiftly pulling him down the mattress in one strong movement. Zayn is up on his feet before he knows it, but only for a split second before Harry has moved his hands to the back of his thighs, and Zayn grins happily as he is lifted up into Harry's arms. His own arms are secure around Harry's neck and he wraps his legs firmly around his waist, once again letting himself press his face into Harry's warm skin, feeling him wrap an arm around Zayn's waist as Harry starts to navigate towards the kitchen.

Harry makes the pancakes with Zayn sitting on the counter, trying to pull Harry in between his thighs whenever the younger man moves away from the stove to fetch something, both of them stark naked still, and Harry sighing as he goes all too willingly.

“One year with you, and I'm still so easy,” Harry mumbles against Zayn's lips the third time he's surrendered to Zayn's grin and touch, the two of them languidly snogging as the fifth pancake sizzles in the butter.

“Are you complaining?” Zayn asks in the same soft tone, his hands on either side of Harry's face, stroking his thumbs against his cheeks as Harry's lids fall more and more shut with every touch.

“Are you?” Harry retorts, and Zayn pulls him in firmly for another deep kiss, his legs locking around Harry's waist answer enough. Harry's rumbling moan against Zayn's lips sends a pleasant shiver up his spine and he closes his eyes, smiling as Harry moves down to suck at his neck, his hands stroking over Zayn's sides in gentle movements that seem completely separated from the way he is quickly nibbling at Zayn's skin. Zayn is just about to move his hands down for a cheeky squeeze at Harry's arse when the noise from the pan suddenly gets louder, and he turns to the side to have a look.

“Babe, something smells,” Zayn says gently, smiling at Harry's sound of confusion. Harry pulls away with a frown on his face until his gaze falls onto the stove and he lets out a silent curse, moving over to get the pancake on the plate on the counter that he's quickly been filling up.

“I guess that one will have to be yours,” Harry says casually, and Zayn pulls him back against him, biting at his neck, making Harry giggle and pull away.

“Nope,” Zayn simply says and yanks him back again, Harry's back now against his chest as he holds a firm grip around his boyfriend's waist. Harry sighs heavily, still with a content smile on his face.

“Babe,” he whines softly, as Zayn rubs his face against Harry's bare neck. “Just one more. We have to eat,” he says in that small voice that always makes Zayn want to pepper kisses all over his face, coo and hug him and never let him go, if only to give him exactly what he wants, whatever it is. But Harry is so warm and his skin is so soft and Zayn's thighs are squeezing his sides and he will be damned if he lets Harry move even an inch away from him now.

He makes a disagreeing and final sound in the back of his throat, his hand gripping around his other wrist to lock Harry in fully against him. “I'm fine with two. As long as you get the messed up one,” A laugh can't help but find its way into his voice and Harry sighs out a chuckle.

“Of course I will,” Harry says, sounding so much more fond than long-suffering, letting Zayn know that he'll always take the backseat to Zayn's happiness, something that Zayn has mixed feelings about, but still never fails to make his heart feel like it's gonna burst out of his chest. “Can I have one more?” Harry still asks sweetly, looking to his side to try and get a glimpse of Zayn out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't need to try too hard, as Zayn moves in to nuzzle and kiss at his temple, and Harry closes his eyes at the feeling, smiling peacefully.

“Hold on a sec,” Zayn mumbles into his ear, before moving his mouth down to leisurely kiss at Harry's neck and shoulder. Harry sighs.

“Babe,” he whines again, and Zayn smiles to himself, not faltering for a second as he sinks his teeth into the flesh between Harry's neck and shoulder, growling playfully, making Harry laugh and flinch away, but Zayn's grip is still firm around him so he doesn't go too far.

“We need to hurry. It's almost nine,” he tries, sighing out softly as Zayn nibbles at his earlobe, glancing at the clock on the microwave to their right on the counter.

“It's quarter to, and we don't. We have the car remember?”

It's their first proper Christmas together, and as Harry promised one year ago, almost to the day, they're going up north to spend it with his family. The two of them, after having dinner with the Maliks the day before, got to borrow Yaser's car to take up to Cheshire in the morning. It was more pushed upon them really, Harry trying to say time and time again that they could just as well take the train, but Yaser had insisted, pressing the car keys into Harry's hand, and saying that there was no one he would trust more with his baby, referring to the spotless Rolls sleeping soundly in the sizeable garage.

“Babies,” he had corrected himself, fondly looking at Zayn who had rolled his eyes before kissing his father goodbye. Harry had done the same, gulping as he squeezed the keys firmly in his hand. And then grinned like a schoolboy as he sat behind the wheel of the Ghost, ready to steer the car towards their flat for the night.

Zayn had had to tell Harry to please settle down already, as Harry kept getting up to wander over to the window to check on the car, well into the evening, and after they had gone to bed.

Zayn can't believe it. A year. A whole year with Harry, and it seems like they had their first kiss only weeks ago. They say that time moves quicker when you're having fun, and Zayn has never deemed it more true. When you're so deeply and unstoppably in love, it must go even faster.

It hasn't been completely painfree, of course not. No matter how much Louis still rolls his eyes at them, over twelve months after they first got together properly, and tells them how disgusting they are (while unironically texting Liam heart emojis, with a smiling poop added just because), they've had their hardships along the way. Harry finished school and stressed out about getting a job to support them both and pay for Zayn's flat that he moved into after Louis left. The internship at the publishing company that Harry set up for Zayn was an unpaid one, and Zayn had had to stay at the restaurant and work there simultaneously, something that took its toll on him, along with Harry and their relationship as well. It was all but a bump along the way, looking back on it, that and whatever came after, because at the end of the day, there was no one that Zayn would rather fight for than Harry. No one he'd rather work himself into an exhausted mess for than Harry. No one who he would sit up with in the middle of the night consoling because of the immense stress put upon them, than Harry.

It would have been a scary feeling, to realise the inmeasurable lengths you would be willing to go for one single person. It was nothing that Zayn had ever felt before, but the feeling came in an instant, and made its home inside Zayn's chest, just like Harry had, so simply and comfortably, all those months ago. Zayn wasn't scared, not for one second. Looking into Harry's eyes and telling him that everything would be okay, that Zayn would make it so. They would. Together. Nothing had ever felt more real, more certain. More home. And they did, and it was, and it always would be. More than okay. Always so much more. As Zayn started his blog and got his column in an actual real life magazine, as Harry found his first job alongside his old and most beloved professor at the actual Royal Academy of Music, as they could afford to rent the flat that they had been longing for in the outskirts of Camden, still near Anne's original shop, that had only grown more popular as time went by. It all fit together. And to this day, Zayn can't imagine himself being more content. With life, with love. With Harry.

Nothing could be better. Until Zayn started to slowly realise that maybe that definite statement was actually false.

“The car,” Harry smiles lazily, leaning into Zayn's touch for just a moment before he springs to life. “I should go and check on it.” He puts down the spatula still in his hand and makes to move away, but Zayn locks his ankles together in front of him, using that same thigh strength to keep him in place, Harry huffing instantly, but not being able to stop his natural instincts of stroking the skin of Zayn's legs available to him.

“I think you need to relax a little bit, mister,” Zayn says, sneaking his arms under Harry's, not hesitating in moving a hand down to cup Harry's balls in his palm. His dick had been on its way to half-hard during the make-out session already, having softened slightly since, but like clockwork, Harry's breathing hitches in his throat, just loud enough for Zayn to hear where he is completely pressed to Harry's back.

Harry manages to make his sigh sound at least a tiny bit on the berating side.

“Baby,” he starts, before getting distracted, still stroking Zayn's knees and calves as he takes a glance down at where Zayn is now fondling him slowly.

“Yes?” Zayn drawls out sweetly, waiting patiently for Harry to get his words together as usual.

Harry lets himself feel for a bit, tilting his head back ever so slightly to lean more against Zayn's shoulder, his temple resting against Zayn's. “You said one more,” he mumbles, still a hint of a defiant whine to his tone, but Zayn can hear it fade by the second.

“ _You_ did,” he says, just as softly, moving one hand up to thumb at a nipple, the other reaching to get a full grasp around the part of Harry that is now finally starting to wake up to greet the rest of them.

“This feels good though?” He asks gently into Harry's ear, both of their eyes now focused on Zayn's hand as he starts to slowly move it up and down, Harry's mouth falling open slightly at the feeling.

“It's alright,” Harry says, still cheeky as ever, but the breathy tone to his voice gives everything away.

Zayn grins into the hair at his temple, pulling Harry's foreskin down over his soon to be fully hard cock and sweeps the pad of his thumb over the tip as he sucks Harry's earlobe into his mouth. The combination of sensations are enough for Harry to let loose the first moan, not bothering with trying to hide his rapidly increasing arousal for a second longer. He raises his left hand up to grab at the back of Zayn's head, turning to him and pulling him in for a kiss, whining softly into his mouth.

“Still easy as ever,” Zayn mumbles with a cunning smile on his face, nibbling on Harry's bottom lip slightly. “You would think you'd have some more stamina by now,” he says teasingly, and a rumbling sounds from deep in Harry's throat. He turns in Zayn's loosening hold, Zayn's legs coming up to lock him in once more, pushing them as close together as possible as Harry's hands settle on his waist, pulling him to him on the counter, just roughly enough for a delighted gasp to leave Zayn's lips.

“I don't see you complaining,” Harry murmurs out through a set jaw, that same grin in his voice before he gets another grip around Zayn's neck to press their lips together, and Zayn opens his mouth in an instant. One hand comes to rest on Harry's broad naked back, Zayn's nails scraping ever so lightly across the skin, while the other sneaks between them, finding its way back around Harry's cock standing hard and proud in all its full glory.

Zayn lets himself be snogged into near oblivion before he gets some sense into his mind, deciding to pull Harry even deeper into the pit of hopeless horniness on this fine Saturday morning. He pulls away slightly, letting Harry trail his lips down to press sloppy kisses all over his shoulder, chancing a glance at the clock again, before closing his eyes and smirking to himself, and mustering up the most casual tone to his voice that he can with Harry still doing wonders to his neck.

“Baby?” he asks gently, only getting a distant humming sound as a reply. Zayn smiles. “Did you make sure to pack everything?”

Harry hums again, a hint of confusion in his voice, but still not being able to think too clearly with Zayn's hand still moving lazily over his dick. Zayn loosens his grip just a bit.

“You got everything? The presents are all in the bags?” Zayn pulls away further to get a look at Harry's face.

“Uh,” Harry starts dumbly, a small frown on his face and Zayn has to keep himself from kissing his nose. “Yeah, I... Yeah, they're all in there. The brown one, it's in the hall already. Didn't you put it there?” Zayn has to admire his efforts, and nods as if he's simply forgotten.

“Oh right. Good,” Harry nods in agreement, smiling again and raising his hands to cup Zayn's cheeks, gently pulling him in for a much more delicate kiss. Zayn goes willingly, letting the softness of Harry's lips pull him under just for a moment, before he moves away again, Harry going after him on pure instinct. Zayn bites his lip, studying Harry with lidded eyes, keeping his hand moving lightly, and Harry licks his lips, moving his hands down to the small of Zayn's back instead. He hums a questioning sound, and nudges Zayn's nose with his.

“What about the Santa costume? You know where you have it?” Zayn breathes out gently, a soft lilt letting his words go up in pitch at the end.

“Uhm,” Harry hums again, his breathing slow and just a bit heavy, his fingers stroking lightly at Zayn's back and Zayn wills himself not to shudder. “Yeah. No. Well, it's at mum's, isn't it,” Harry says in the same soft tone, letting him know what Zayn already should be, and is, well aware of, but keeping the warmth in his voice nonetheless. Zayn makes a knowing sound back, and Harry nods.

“I was just thinking,” Zayn begins, making Harry politely stop his attempt of once again getting his lips back on Zayn, listening to what he has to say and Zayn's heart is filled with a wave of sudden warmth. He holds back his smile and keeps going instead. “I was just thinking,” he says again, and Harry gently nods for him to keep going. “What if you could bring it back with you? With us?” he whispers. Harry frowns again.

“What- for... for next Christmas?” he tries cutely, clearly not knowing what Zayn is trying to get at and Zayn smiles kindly, shaking his head.

“Nah. I mean... for us.” He moves his mouth to Harry's ear. “For me.”

His grip on Harry's cock tightens, and Harry breathes out slowly.

“What do you mean?” He gets out anyway, but the look in Harry's eyes tells Zayn that he's starting to get it. He bites his lip, feeling that same little grin creeping onto his face.

“You remember what I said last year? What I said about you in that suit? You don't remember?” Zayn lets a hint of falsely exaggerated disappointment creep into his voice, stopping a sweet pout from appearing on his face, wanting to cut Harry at least a little slack. He nudges Harry's nose with his, giving him the most sensual little eskimo kiss, and sees up close how Harry's cheeks start to flush the tiniest bit pink. Harry breathes out a small chuckle.

“No, I do,” he says. “It's quite vivid in my mind,” he adds, trying to make a joke out of the situation, but Zayn isn't deterred. He can see the realisation starting to form on Harry's face, sees him gulp, sees his mouth stay open to drag in soft, slow breaths. Harry knows what he's talking about, and what Zayn bringing it up right now must mean. Right now, with his hand around Harry's dick and his mouth just inches from his. Zayn has been thinking of it, jokingly at times, but still enough to make the hairs on his back stand on end. And Harry must have been too, maybe just in a fleeting moment. But the genuine surprised reaction tells Zayn that when Harry said yes to being Santa this year at Christmas for his younger cousins' sake, this was not something that immediately had come to mind.

“Yeah? You been thinking about it?” Zayn asks anyway, the question genuine on his tongue. He wants to know, wants to hear it from Harry himself.

“I-,” Harry starts before letting out another laugh, recognising the ridiculousness of the situation, and Zayn smiles along with him, but the slight twitching of Harry's cock in Zayn's hand tells them both that while it might be just a bit ridiculous, or maybe a lot, it still seems to hit some kind of spot for at least one of them. “I, uhm... have you?” Harry tries instead. Zayn shrugs casually.

“It may have crossed my mind. Once or twice.” Harry nods in silent acknowledgment, before another sudden little grin appears on his face.

“Did your dad ever dress up like Santa?” he says in a perfect Chandler Bing impersonation, and Zayn fights the urge to giggle along with him. Instead, he just puts on his finest bedroom eyes, giving Harry the answer he already knew as he shakes his head slowly, his gaze firm on Harry. Harry gulps again, moving just a tiny bit closer. “Interesting,” he mumbles, gaining a bit of confidence back all of a sudden and Zayn rewards him with a kiss.

“You think you could sneak it into your bag when we leave?” Zayn wonders as Harry starts to gently mouth at his neck again. His grip around his dick has come to a full stop but Harry doesn't seem to mind too much, finding plenty of satisfaction in just being able to explore the vastness of Zayn's skin for what must be the billionth time.

Harry hums in thought. “I think mum might be wondering where it's gone.”

A legitimate worry, but not the sexy talk that Zayn would have wished for. He shrugs enough for Harry to not have to move away.

“I guess we could just have a little fun while we're there then,” he says, and Harry's muffled voice makes an inquiring sound of hesitation. Zayn pulls away to get a look at him again, pressing their foreheads together. “You could take it back to our room. And after everyone has gone, when it's just the two of us, you could put it back on again. Let me have a turn on Santa's lap, no?”

Harry huffs out a breath and Zayn fights a grin, as he watches his flushed boyfriend start to shake his head. “You- are too much,” The smile is on Zayn's face before he can stop it and he holds back a laugh as Harry goes in to bite at his neck.

“No?” he goes on, the picture of innocence. Were it not for the firm grip on Harry's sizeable and now leaking cock, he could have fooled himself. “Haven't I been good?” He gets his free hand into Harry's hair and gently pulls him back to whisper into his mouth. “Haven't I been a good boy, baby?”

Harry shakes his head incoherently. “Oh, the best,” he moans, trying to move in again but being held back by Zayn's grasp on his hair. Harry bites his lip and moves a hand to get at Zayn's dick that is just as hard as his own by now. Zayn shakes his head, making a sound to let Harry know not to touch.

“Don't,” he says, slowly letting go of Harry's hair, sliding his hand down his chest and finally getting a grip on him with both hands.

“Ah, fuck,” Harry pants, his eyes on Zayn's hands in between them, stroking him slowly and firmly now. His eyes roll back into their sockets and he tilts his head towards the ceiling for a moment before his gaze finds its way back to Zayn touching him, Harry's hands settling on Zayn's thighs, stroking them gently, making Zayn smile softly. He lets one hand leave Harry's hardness, putting it behind him on the counter and leaning back slightly, using the other to press the cock in his hand against the warm skin of his own stomach, Harry immediately pressing closer yet and moving his hips to get at whatever friction he can.

“So good,” He breathes, his eyes on where Zayn is holding him and most likely not thinking about what he's saying, but Zayn still grins, jumping at the opportunity.

“Yeah? Only good boys are allowed to get their hands on a present this grand,” Zayn says, the grin still on his face, and Harry swallows down a choke, one hand of his coming up to grasp behind one of Zayn's knees, lifting it ever so slightly. Zayn welcomes the touch. “Only good boys get to have a taste,” he licks his lips unconsciously, watching the way Harry is biting down on his lip in vigour, and Zayn moves his own hips up to meet Harry's. Harry shakes his head again, a small helpless frown creasing the skin between his brows.

“Only you,” he says with such honesty, and Zayn can't help but slip into his doting self, cooing lovingly as he surges up to kiss him, an arm laying itself over Harry's shoulders, and Harry moans against his lips, Zayn opening his mouth for Harry's eager tongue before a rumbling noise sounds from between them and Zayn moves back to look down in confusion.

Harry's stomach makes the same sound and Zayn just about manages to keep from laughing. He's still rock solid against his own stomach, they both are, but Zayn sighs at himself anyway. “Brekkie,” is all he can say, and Harry's frowning face looks down at his own tummy in betrayal, Zayn being able to push him away gently as he hops down from the counter.

“Wha- wait,” Harry says and Zayn hides his grin by turning away to pour more batter into the pan.

“You're hungry, aren't you?” he asks, not knowing how the hell he is even able to think clearly at this moment, throwing a glance to the side at Harry, standing with his hands raised up slightly, dick facing the ceiling, looking like he's just been told that his boyfriend is the ugliest man in the world. The sight is as mouth-watering as it is hilarious, and a loud snort is finally released from Zayn's mouth. Harry narrows his eyes in an instant, fighting back a smile of his own. His thoughts must be getting clearer now that Zayn isn't touching him because he has turned off the stove quick enough that Zayn can only watch it happen.

“Your sixth pancake,” he bursts out in mock-outrage before yelping as Harry moves in to grab at him.

It takes Harry at least three laps around the kitchen table to catch Zayn, the both of them giggling their heads off as Zayn kicks his legs in every direction after Harry has flung him across his shoulder, carrying him back to the bedroom.

“It's nine-thirty!” Zayn laughs in one last half-hearted try.

“Quarter past,” comes Harry's reply before he's thrown Zayn onto the bed, making time irrelevant as soon as his lips are on Zayn's.

 

As Zayn pushes Harry towards the bathroom when the clock is fast approaching ten, to take the quickest shower possible, telling him that he has one thing left to wrap, Harry whines again.

“You've given me enough, babe,” but Zayn just rolls his eyes and points at the shower, Harry rolling his eyes even harder in reply, making Zayn stick his tongue out at him before he closes the door.

As Zayn hears the shower start and the glass door slide open and closed, he pulls up his new pair of boxers and moves swiftly towards the night stand.

The little box has been stashed in the bottom drawer for over a month now, and Zayn feels those instant butterflies flutter in his stomach as soon as he gets his hand around it. It's not exactly a wonder that Harry hasn't found it, the night stand on Zayn's side usually filled with nothing but drafts of writing, books and the odd sweet here and there, but Zayn has still been holding his breath every time Harry goes into the bedroom alone. It has to be perfect, and it will be. Zayn will make it so.

Still crouched on the floor beside the bed Zayn looks at the black velvet box. Taking a deep breath, he presses it against his mouth, before getting up and shoving it deep into his duffel bag, along with the inconspiciuous shopping bag already holding Harry's actual Christmas stocking.

He rises up, biting his lip down on a smile, suddenly feeling that prickling in his throat, a slight pressure behind his eyes. He breathes out slowly once more, throws a glance at the bathroom, hearing Harry singing Last Christmas to himself under the spray of the shower, lets out a happy chuckle, and heads for the kitchen to wrap up the pancakes for them to eat in the car, and fill up a thermos of hot chocolate.

Nothing could be better. But everything always is.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated as usual. Feel free to hit me up on [tumblr](http://queenxzee.tumblr.com/), I'm always up for a chat. xx


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